


After the Dawn

by musicat56



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicat56/pseuds/musicat56
Summary: Neither Jon nor Danaerys return after the battle - But the long night ends, the dead stay dead and Spring begins.  Samwell Tarly searches for the truth, a dog becomes a wolf, a girl grows up and a man finally comes home.  But can he ever forgive himself the terrible price for peace?  Just a few glimpses of life after the dawn.





	1. No Man Shall Cross

Chapter 1 - No Man Shall Cross - 1st Lady of the Watch

Her family symbol was now a large X with a snowflake behind it.  _No Man Shall Cross_ stitched below it in the finest letters.  The finest furs lined the coat, warm but light, sewn into place by the Lady of Winterfell’s own hands.  And yet Brienne felt it upon her like a great weight she would never be able to remove.  She had chosen this life, the life of the wife of the 1000 th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.  She had chosen Tormund for his sheer persistence and her own loss at how to return to a normal life after the battle of the dawn.  But looking each day from their newly erected castle to the giant ice wall standing behind them filled her heart with a melancholy she could not put away.  There was no gate, no way to pass the wall and the things beyond were now hopefully forever lost to them.

She smiled sadly at the Lord of High Garden Samwell Tarly as he waited for her husband’s responses to his questioning.  Tormund looked annoyed with the young lord but she shot her husband a glance, warning him with her eyes to be friendly.  The poor man was only searching for the truth.

“My Lord Tarly, I can’t tell you what I don’t know and have nothing to add that I haven’t sent you by raven.  Jon Snow told us to take the bones of the dead back to Winterfell.  He and the Dragon Queen pushed the wights off with dragon fire while the small group remaining on the side of the living fled.  He was mad about his sister, and no doubt headed for a foolish confrontation with the Night’s King.  No one knows what happened when he did.  Two days later as we are trudging back to Winterfell that damn dead dragon shows up behind us and reforms the wall about 10 feet behind where we stood.  Then I got the letter from King Bran declaring that we are at peace with the white walkers and no man shall ever pass the wall without threatening that peace.  He told me it was my job to ensure that, less the dead rise again.”

Samwell Tarly nodded, recording Tormund’s words as Brienne pitied him terribly.  He should be enjoying the Spring in the Reach, growing his family with his wife.  And yet he was thousands of miles away, searching for a truth that would forever evade them.

“The answers you seek are beyond that 1000 foot monstrosity behind us Lord Tarly.  And I’ve been tasked with putting a Valyrian sword through anyone who tries to breach it.”

Sam nodded but did not look at all bothered by Tormund’s threat.  “But that’s the problem, if they lived, they could be trapped behind the wall.  And who has told you to let no one pass?  Bran?  He expects us all to trust him and his abilities.”

“It does not matter,” cut in Brienne.  “Jon and Danaerys wanted to save us, and they accomplished it.  We are living and breathing and the morning came, Spring came.  The dead are not threatening us.  If they are alive behind that wall do you think they would thank you for risking the peace?  If not their lives, who knows what they sacrificed to accomplish it.  Go home Sam.  Jon would not want this for you, he would want you to live the life you have been granted.”


	2. Harsh Like Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Jon nor Danaerys return after the battle - But the long night ends, the dead stay dead and Spring begins. Samwell Tarly searches for the truth, a dog becomes a wolf, a girl grows up and a man finally comes home. But can he ever forgive himself the terrible price for peace? Just a few glimpses of life after the dawn.

Chapter 2 - Harsh Like Winter - The Wolf Maker

Sansa opened the door slowly, surprised that Bran had summoned her to his solar.  He rarely made any semblance of familial affection and there were no pending diplomatic visits that he would need to ask her to navigate.  He had stopped green seeing after the peace with the White Walkers was obtained.  It could be worse, he had whispered to her when she asked and she sensed he feared his own power.  His first official act after taking on Jon’s role when it appeared he would not be returning, was to have the weirwood trees burnt.  She had questioned him many times about it, the only response she received was that men had no business being gods.  She had hoped that meant her brother Bran might return to her but instead she had only the stony Lord of Winterfell to contend with – brooding and mysterious.

“You should marry Sandor,” he stated once the door was closed.

She could only stare at him, unable to come up with a response to such a statement.  After the battle, when Sandor had returned with Brienne and Tormund and the bones of almost everyone else who mattered she had cried with him over the losses.  He had promised her that their fierce she-devil died quickly and valiantly while they sipped watered down ale.  He had sworn himself to her defense when Brienne left with Tormund.  But while they shared a certain closeness born of shared strife she had not imagined herself marrying anyone ever again.

“Why?” she asked in confusion.

“I am not going to travel to the gathering of the 7 counselors of Westeros.  Even if Tyrion accommodated me and had it in Winterfell itself this year I do not have the temperament for it.  You are to be my representative.  But you should not be alone Sansa.  A fierce husband accompanying you would be in your favour.  And the Starks need heirs.”

Sansa nodded, feeling a rage of anger at Bran.  She did not like to admit it but she hated her remaining family member more often than she loved him.  He was stubborn and harsh, like the old kings of winter.  And she knew he either knew what happened to Jon and did not tell her, or burned the only way of knowing.  And now he dictated to her that she should marry.  Jon would have never…. But Jon was dead.

“They would not be Starks,” she argued.  She knew she would relent, Bran always got his way, and she had been married or almost so to men much worse than her bodyguard.  She also knew if she had to go back into the Capital she could only do it with him by her side.  Perhaps he was the only person who hated it as much as she and they could be brave together.

“We would make them Starks.  Surely a dog is merely a domesticated wolf?  Make him a free man, grant him the happiness of being your husband.  Make him a wolf Sansa.”

 

 

 

 

 


	3. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Jon nor Danaerys return after the battle - But the long night ends, the dead stay dead and Spring begins. Samwell Tarly searches for the truth, a dog becomes a wolf, a girl grows up and a man finally comes home. But can he ever forgive himself the terrible price for peace? Just a few glimpses of life after the dawn.

Chapter 3 – The Wedding - The Lady of Bear Island

Lady Lyanna hated weddings.  Like her namesake the Lady of Bear Island had flowered into a beautiful young maiden and cringed when she thought of the young men throwing themselves at her feet, hoping to be the next lord of Bear Island.  She would follow her mother’s lead and take no husband she swore to herself as she breathed in the refreshing air outside Winterfell’s halls.

“A young lady should not wander off on her own, who knows what unsavory types may be about,” came a deep and cautioning voice to her left.  She felt he meant to scare her away, perhaps hoping to sneak in to Lady Sansa’s wedding feast without being noticed.  But she did not scare so easily.  She took a look at the man before her.  He must be a wilding she thought, noting the long grizzled beard and harsh look in his eyes.

“I can protect myself,” she warned him, feeling for the small dagger she always kept at her side.  It had been taken from Arya Stark at the time of her death and Sansa felt she was the most deserving to yield it.  It had been a great honor.

The man looked at her for a long time, seemed to be searching her face until he seemed to arrive at the answer he was looking for.  “Lady Mormont?” he finally asked, a familiar inflection to his voice.  She studied his face more closely, there was something quite familiar about the shape of his eyes and nose.  Then she noted some movement behind him and the white wolf emerging from where he had been hiding in the shadows.  “Jon Snow?” she gasped in surprise.

He shot her a warning glance and she uttered no more, but took a step closer to him.  “Is it really you Your Grace?” she whispered.

“Aye, it’s me.  But I beg of you Lady Lyanna, don’t tell them.”

She looked at him, a million questions rushing through her mind.  “What happened to you?” she finally settled on.

“I should not be here.  I just, Starks and weddings.  I want Sansa to be safe.”

Lady Lyanna paused and wished she had the elegance with words that Lady Sansa had, that she could say something to make the tortured man in front of her realize that he was torturing them more by not declaring himself.  She had only Mormont bluntness though.  “No one knows what happened to you.  You would do us the most kindness by returning to the party with me.”

He looked at her for a long time.  “The price for peace is a terrible thing.  I am ashamed to speak of my actions and there are those I cannot face.”

Lyanna looked at him angrily.  “So you leave us to mourn you?  To sing songs of a hero that you may not deserve?  For poor Samwell Tarly to trudge through Westeros on the pretense of documenting the long night but really he is looking for his brother? I did not think I named a coward for my king.”


	4. The Cursed Man

Chapter 4 – The Cursed Man – Jon Snow

 “Good thing I am not your king anymore,” replied Jon, pulling his rattled furs closer around him.  Lady Mormont shot him a disappointed look and he could not blame her.  She had been his staunchest supporter and he knew how difficult it was to see your heroes fall.  To have what you believed was the truth of someone or something suddenly vanish into thin air.

 “There are no more kings in Westeros,” she replied dully, and the brief moment of disappointment he felt seemed to confirm what he had realized in the years spent wandering between the wall and Winterfell.  That maybe he was more like his father than his uncle.  He could never be Ned’s Son again, nor the victorious King in the North.  He could not even claim to be the Bastard of Winterfell.  He was the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, if the idea of a monarchy itself had not fallen.  He supposed nobody was probably better than him.

“They say Rhaegar Targaryen was prone to melancholy, and the Starks of old were reckless and stupid at times.  I suppose that explains it,” Lyanna said, while shooting him an examining glance.  He expected her to turn away from him then and return to Sansa’s wedding, but instead she walked towards Ghost.

Jon watched her, the way she found the spot under his neck that he liked best, reducing his fearsome direwolf to a domestic pet in mere moments.  His wolf looked happy and at home and he envied him terribly.

“At least you aren’t as stupid as your human,” she murmured to Ghost and Jon felt he should be insulted but his lip curled up in a brief smile as he watched the petite woman tame the giant wolf.  She ignored him and continued to speak to Ghost.  “You know the importance of a pack, and that to have a piece of your family back is priceless.  Hell it’s why I welcomed cousin Jorah back to Bear Island.”

“He survived?” asked Jon in surprise, the man had been half dead when he had sent the last survivors of his army back.

Lyanna finally looked up from petting Ghost.  “He survived, though he is ashamed of it.  Jaimie Lannister died for the cause.  His Queen died for it too.  At least we think she died Jon.  No one knew what happened but years went by and neither of you returned.  We all wanted answers.  Bran said there was peace and there was a wall.  He told us we were all alive and Spring would come so we best leave it alone.  He would say no more about it, just that the door had to be closed.”

So Bran had not told them.  He felt a great anger at his cousin, though it wasn’t Bran who had told him to do what he did.  It was the Three Eyed Raven.

“What happened Jon?”

This very question was why he had not come home.  He could not face the answer.  He could not look at his family, at his friends, and tell them what he had done.  And yet being here with the one person who had believed in him when so many had not, he knew he owed her the truth. 

“I sacrificed the last dragon for peace,” he whispered not bothering to hide the tears that came to his eyes.  Let him be shamed.  He was no man.

“Rhaegal?” she asked, and he shook his head, though he had killed Rhaegal too.  In the end after Viserion and the night’s King re-forged the wall they had signed the peace treaty with the blood of their dragons.  He slaying Rhaegal, while the Night’s King slew Viserion on the opposite side.  Almost three years later he could still hear Bran’s voice clearly in his head whispering that it was finally over, the ink was dry.

“Danaerys was pregnant with my child,” he started, the story finally leaking out from where it had been held inside him for so long.  “We were going to marry if, well.  I was angry.  Angry about Arya, and I rushed ahead to confront the Others.  Off to do something stupid again.  But Drogon was always the faster dragon, she took the hit from Viserion that should have been for me.  She was impervious to fire, but not to ice.  She fell off Drogon.  She didn’t survive.”

Lyanna nodded, and looked like she wanted to say something comforting but he couldn’t let her.  Not until she knew everything.

“Rhaegal fought Viserion while I jumped off and ran to her.  She was so cold.  Then somehow the remaining children of the forest were beside her.  They told me that the ice froze Danaerys, but the child could still survive.  The child had ice magic in its veins.”

Jon shook his head.  The mind played tricks, he remembered Danaerys’ dead body on the snow as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.  He knew he had fled with her body and the children of the forest, he knew they cut his daughter from her, and let him hold her in his arms.  The short curly hair, the violet eyes, pale skin and the soft squeals.  It was all a blur of despair, then of hope.  But it lasted for what seemed less than a moment before the Night King was there outside the cave.  He remembered the children gesturing to his daughter, the sinking feeling in his chest.  Your daughter’s been promised to them – a princess for the stolen Queen he thought they had murmured.  Then there was Bran’s voice telling him it was the only way to peace.  He remembered watching the children give his daughter to the Night’s King.  No more war.  A single child to end a blood bath.  He still did not know why he did not fight harder for her, why he rode in silence as they wall was re-forged, why he put his sword through Rhaegal’s heart.

“I gave little Visenya to my worst enemy,” he choked out, waiting for her condemnation.

“You sacrificed everyone you loved most for peace,” replied Lyanna quietly.  “If you expect me to condemn you for that Jon Snow you are mistaken.”


End file.
